


Phoenix

by BabylonSabby



Category: Homestuck
Genre: ...very symbolic...masturbation, Gen, Masturbation, Phoenix - Freeform, Symbolism, about not only accepting your sexuality, but owning it. making it yours., it's about self love and self acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 21:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6347257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabylonSabby/pseuds/BabylonSabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Slightly' meta, symbolic fic about Dave blossoming from frightened, insecure child to full-on confident bamf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phoenix

The life of a Homestuck reader is a strange one, considering you’re always jumping in and out of bodies. This consciousness becomes that. When you were young, you already had a sense of self established. But over the years, it has dulled. And suddenly you struggle to remember who you ever were. You have vague, frosted memories, but that’s about it. And they kinda linger there like ghosts and shadows in your mind, as if they are the last remnants of a childhood you could barely hang onto as it was. Who really remembers being a toddler and going through their ‘munchkin’ phase? Especially once you hit adulthood? It’s like that. You have a slight idea and it even fills you with pain. But the longer it goes on, the less you start to care. Much more interesting things are at work anyway.

Say, for example, this Dave child.

Prior to discovering him way back in the day, you’d have established yourself as a well-rounded being. You had a round about way of self-identity, you’d assume. But now that all this has transpired, you find yourself…lacking in that department. It’s almost as if you’re empty. This, you eventually decide, is a good thing.

Especially now. At first, it was very hard to even read the characters of these…characters. You had your assumptions, but what in the end did you really know about them? You had experienced their lives so many times that in the end, you lost your own sense of self and instead were rewarded with…what…exactly? And how many of you were there, now that you were thinking about it? Were they ‘you’, or just other readers? You’ve been toying with the notion that you’re all one being anyway. You have your theories and assumptions, but nothing to back them up. Yet. It has to do with String Theory or some such nonsense.

But, never mind all that, it’s all good. Because things have been happening lately. Things that remind you of home. Things that remind you of…being human again. Even if…vaguely.

Take the Dave, for example. At first, he was scared of it, but now he’s not. In fact, he’s on fire. You understand him perfectly and it thrills you to be him, sometimes. You get to experience life in a way you thought was lost to you. And it feels good. It hasn’t felt this good in a long time. He’s reaching up skyward with his hands, electric fingers glistening with power, and he’s dancing. He puts on a show for an imaginary audience. An audience he wants to communicate with, but can’t at the moment. If he could, though…if he could only say what he really wanted to say…he’d probably say what his body was saying now.

He does not fear them, this hypothetical audience. They all represent the mothers, fathers, children, and adults that made up the general population of his old life. And if he could say it out loud to them, he’d say, “Suck it.”

This is what irony should have been. A sarcastic ploy against everyone who did not understand him or the ways of the goddamn patriarchy. If he could go back in time, he’d probably de-establish the thing. Oh, wait. He could. It was on his To Do List. For the time being, he’d dance for the unwitting followers of said system, and bring them all to light with his fluid rhythm. He’d be the Christ Child of the weird and profane. Everything they thought sacred, he’d prove how it was unholy all along, and then lead them into a new world of confidence, beauty, and self-love.

No more God-fearing judging. It wasn’t anyone he was living for…but himself. Selfishness was a part of being human, too. And they just needed reminding of it. 

You share his body and feel just as confident as he does, just as ready. There’s also an acidic anger to it, nestled in his heart like a glittering diamond among leaves. He wants revenge. Sometimes, there’s just no point in being nice and sugar-coating things. Sometimes, you just want to set everything ablaze and watch it all burn. He would do that, too, in his rhythms. He would do that, too, with his new found confidence. He would do that too, with his guidance. Start a new, motherfucking movement.

There were days like this, when his movements were passionate and righteous; when they sought to uproot the foundations of everyone and everything that had abused him prior to this moment.

And then…there were days like this.

Ones where it had nothing to do with lashing or striking out.

There were days whilst you were Dave…that rather than dance, sing, or even act for others, he would do so for himself. It was on days like this that everything changed and suddenly, the imaginary audience didn’t fucking matter anymore. Nothing fucking mattered anymore, but this goddamn precious fire, and how it was only hissing and singing for you. Politics be damned, this was about sex now. This was closing the doors and creating art, not for other eyes to look at and judge, but for your own goddamn self. It didn’t matter if it was good, bad, or somewhere in the middle, it was for you. And it was played by your rules and done on your time. It was moments like that you loved yourself. Because Dave loved himself. In that respect, you suppose you loved Dave, too. He was the first child you had actually melted with. And you very nearly lost yourself there, for a moment.

Proves you still had a self to lose, if that helps.

But even though it was a close call, you still linger. Because you’ve grown attached. And you just want to feel the lingering vestiges of this sometimes sweet, but currently raging inferno that makes up Dave’s heart. He’s been hanging out with Karkat for a good, long time. Emotion has become pure, fiery, and unadulterated. He says what he wants when he wants to say it. And he doesn’t care anymore how loud he gets.

He considers it singing. And everyone should hear it. He may be in private now, but that vent space carries a tune. 

It’s a confidence thing. He loves himself. And he wants everyone and their dog to know it. So he moans loud and strong, his body still strumming in that graceful, dancer’s rhythm. He’s blissful, his voice carries out the pleasure on rainbow colored notes. It started out as a confidence high a few days ago. He was unused to how happy he actually was. He had to get used to the taste of food again. It was almost like he’d forgotten what it even tasted like. Like steak, for example. He ate one the other night. It had flavor. Unlike any he’d ever tasted. And it wasn’t even anything that particularly special. But goddamn if he couldn’t savor every last morsel of it. It was the first time he felt a sense of…recovery. Like being healthy again. Like being innocent again. You suppose, in the end, that’s what this was all about. All of this performing. It was celebrating that.

Since then, he’s started to mellow out, but the confidence is long from gone. It’s become a part of him. And there are days, like today, where he feels like being an extra spicy meatball, and just whoring himself out to that ventilation system. There are days when he wonders how long he could keep this up. How long will this beautiful joy ride last before he relapses? But this is not one of those days. Not by a long shot. He’s still the shining phoenix. Still spreading his wings. Still burning in flame that does not consume him. It’s as if he takes the abuse and the pain…and makes it into something all his own. He shoots it back at his oppressors as if to say, “Try again, fucknuts. You forgot who you’re dealing with, here.”

He bets they love the sound of his voice out there. Yes, enjoy it. You’re welcome for my presence. 

At what point does this self-love become hedonistic and vain? At what point does he love himself so much he forgets to be gentle to others? Well, for the moment…

He doesn’t fucking give a shit. 

And for everything else, there’s Master Card. And an alien boyfriend who he’s pretty sure will balance him out in that department, too.


End file.
